A Day in the Life of Severus Snape
by Madam Otaku
Summary: Typical, if eventful, day in the life of our BPM. Simple, but amusing, I promise. Snape experiences a close shave at lunch and abuses Longbottom mercilessly. Please Please Please R&R! ^^


Title: A Day in the Life of Severus Snape: An Excerpt from His Diary

  
Author: Hel (madamotaku@hotmail.com)

  
Pairing: None, but several possible ones are suggested. :)

  
Rating: PG

  
Summary: A typical (if somewhat eventful) day in the life of our Beloved Potions Master. Snape teaches potions, abuses and is abused by the people in his life, becomes annoyed repeatedly, bitches a lot, and victimizes Neville Longbottom as much as is humanly (or rather, Snape-ishly) possible. 

Note: This simple-concept fic is my way of getting a feel for writing the HP characters. It's really worth reading, though, I promise! Sprinkled throughout the fic, there are several homages to other works, including Riley's "Pawn to Queen", Telanu's "Your Horoscope for Today", and even a tiny one from Sherlock Holmes for those clever enough to spot it. All feedback will be accepted with ravenous glee. :) 

  
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation to JK Rowling or her works. I feel so ridiculous having to even say that.

Distribution: Feel free to distribute anywhere, but give credit where credit is due, and please let me know about it. It'll give me a big happy. :) 

4:30 A.M.

Woke from a fitful sleep. I had the goblin dream again. This time I was actually the banana custard being spooned into the great, toothy maw of the goblin instead of the schoolgirl in pigtails feeding it to him, as I usually am. Hmmm...very interesting. Sometimes I wonder what kind of bleak omens that crackpot Trelawney would interpret from this dream if I ever told her about it. Though, of course, the mere concept of speaking to that woman gives me uncontrollable shivers. It's all I can do to avoid that goggle-eyed twig creature at work; I'm constantly having to scuttle away after catching her staring at me in the hallways and the staff room. She rivets her eyes upon me in an unsettling way that unquestionably means that she's just DYING to tell me how dismal and wretched my future is. Thanks, but no help needed there, Trelawney, so kindly sod off and mind your own damned business. 

Got up and performed daily regimen. Filled the tub and soaked for 30 mins. in a solution of 80% scalding tap water, 7% harsh soap (heavy on the lye), 5% tee tree oil, 3% essence of Veela, 2% mungsbane, 1.5% diluted snake pheromone, and .5% Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men. Scrubbed and scoured skin and hair, followed by a mild astringent. 

NOTE: this formula has the same effect as all the others. After gazing in the mirror I found that I STILL had all the allure and appearance of a severely depressed, oily herring. 

I surveyed my bathroom and thought, no wonder I dream I'm a schoolgirl almost every night. Judging by the contents of my medicine cabinet, I'm practically a woman. Now all I need is a pair of heels and, for three days every month, I'll have an excuse to hang my students by their various grubby, acne-ridden bits in the lesser-known parts of the dungeon. 

5:30 - 7:00 A.M.

Chopped twenty pounds of Torpus root and separated herbs in the lab all by myself (as today was Monday and I had the terrible misfortune to not catch any of those spotty-faced hellions at doing anything even vaguely out of bounds over the whole weekend. Obviously I wasn't trying hard enough. Must have been off my game. But the next time someone like Fred or George Weasley so much as picks his nose on school grounds, he's MINE). Reminded myself to find a reason to make Neville Longbottom debrain a barrel of eels for tomorrow's project. 

7:30 A.M.

Went to finally start my day with a trip to the staff room. 

No coffee. Again. Reminded myself to make Longbottom scrub out the barrel when he's finished.

BREAKFAST: dry toast and bitter, bitter, cold tea. 

8:00 A.M.

Potions with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw this morning. Discovered Snubbins and Haverly doing something (in MY class, no less) which nearly put me in awe of their audacious, profound stupidity: they re-animated two gutted newt corpses, making them waltz arm in arm to the amusement of their equally fodder-brained classmates. Ah...the exquisite silence that overcomes a group of petrified adolescents when I hover over them!

I now have two slimy fungus gatherers for the rest of the year. 

12:00 P.M.

Rest of morning passed uneventfully until I happened upon Hooch in the staff room between classes...or rather, she happened upon ME. I was hunkered down in a chair with a book, trying to be invisible to people like her.

"Snape!" she cried in that loud, boisterous voice of hers which always sends stabbing pains from my eardrums all the way down my spine. "Just the man I'm looking for!"

"Am I?" I said, doubtfully.

"Yes," she assured me. "Look...I've got a couple of hours free this afternoon. How do you fancy popping off to Hogsmeade for lunch?"

"You CAN'T be serious," I said and raised my eyebrow at her. Hooch never asks me to go anywhere...not unless she's inviting others, in any case. I peered around, as if looking for someone hiding behind the ottoman.

"Are you SURE you're talking to the right person?" 

"Of course I am, you ninny!" she said brightly, and slapped me (affectionately, I think was the intended effect) on the arm. "Come on then! Say you'll go."

Rubbing my arm, I looked at her with suspicion for a moment and then hummed thoughtfully. 

"No, afraid I can't. Unfortunately, Hooch, some of us have full, busy work schedules. I'm completely swamped this afternoon."

"Rubbish!" she retorted, as amiable as ever. "I happen to know that your next class isn't until four. Don't be such a spoilsport, Snape. I haven't anyone else to go with...and you could do with a bit of friendly socializing for a change!" She impudently put her hand around my arm and tried to coax me up out of my seat. I narrowed my eyes at her venomously and dug my fingers into the armrests.

"Thank. You. But. I. Really. Can't. I'm. BUSY," I hissed between my teeth, giving her a look that quite clearly said "piss off" as she tugged at me relentlessly. 

"Nonsense!" she cried gaily as she used both arms to try to pry me from the chair, but to no avail. There was no WAY I was getting out of that chair. I was stuck to the leather upholstery tighter than a leech on a centaur's backside.

"You're just being a nasty old curmudgeon again! Get off it, Snape!" she said as she suddenly released me and, to my horror, moved behind the chair and tipped it over. I fell forward onto my face and she hoisted me up in her firm, hardy grasp. 

"Dammit, woman, get your bloody hands off me!" I screeched, but alas, she was determined to drag me off for a pleasant afternoon's outing to the village, whether I liked it or not. It's a humiliating, but true, fact: I may be a fair bit taller than Hooch, but she's much stronger than I am. But then, she bench-presses infant trolls in her spare time I hear, so it's hardly surprising. 

She dragged me out of the staff room, down the hall, and through the courtyard. I tried grabbing and clinging to doorframes and other parts of the castle as we went along, but again, it was no use. The woman has all the burly, obstinate strength of a very thickheaded boar. 

Neville Longbottom almost saved me. As we passed by several female Slytherins chatting away on a bench outside, I spied Longbottom on his hands and knees, trying to inconspicuously crawl under the bench and reach his toad, which the little dunderhead can never keep track of for more than ten seconds. The image of Longbottom, his chunky arse protruding from behind the bench as he peered around the legs of the girls, was suggestive of truly non-regulation behavior. All right, so technically it would have been impossible for him to look up their robes from that vantage point, but I was desperate. It would be the perfect distraction. 

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" I bellowed triumphantly and pointed at him, making sure to sound enraged and indignant. "WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Immediately upon hearing my voice shouting his name, Longbottom started in terror, his head shooting up and smashing soundly against the bottom of the bench. The girls all jumped up and screamed, running off and hurling angry insults back at him. The language they used would have gotten them all several points off from me if they were from any other house. 

At first, Hooch seemed to fall for it. She relaxed the clamp on my arm a bit and looked genuinely scandalized as I railed at Longbottom. But before I could storm off with the boy in tow to inflict righteous punishment on him by making him not only debrain all my eels, but also wash out every dirty bottle and flask in my lab, Hooch saw the toad. Longbottom was clenching it tightly in his hands as his face drained of all colour under my gaze. I felt her grip become steel again, suddenly, and she gave me a very annoyed look. I was unceremoniously yanked away from Longbottom, my would-be saviour.

I was finally released from Hooch's grip of death when we reached the edge of the grounds. She stopped in front of a small rock shaped something like a muffin, which is the private faculty portkey to Hogsmeade. She picked it up and grinned at me.

"All right, Snape, are you coming along peacefully or do I have to wrestle you to the ground and force you?" she asked, making it sound like a light-hearted joke. I correctly took this as a deathly serious threat, however. I'd have tried to make a run for the Forbidden Forest, but I had no doubt she could outrun me. Also, it wouldn't have been the first time in my life to be tackled and subdued by a female bully at school, and I wasn't terribly eager to relive that kind of emasculation. 

"Yes. Fine. Let's just GO," I muttered bitterly, and touched the rock. 

12:30 - 3:00 P.M. 

Hogsmeade was the same as it always is: loud, filthy, and obnoxiously crowded with tourists, "colourful" locals, and sticky-faced students who gorge themselves on nauseating sweets and then shop for dungbombs and other items hostile to educators. I can't even count how many times I've called for a universal student ban on Hogsmeade at staff meetings, but Dumbledore remains an adamant supporter of teenage hedonism. 

Hooch grinned at me, the twinkle of calculated deceit in her eyes, and said, "All right, then. Follow me...we've got to meet someone." 

I gaped at her, aghast, and cried, "WHAT? Who? I thought you said you hadn't anyone to go with!"

"Well, I hadn't. No one except you and Trelawney, that is."

Oh. My. GOD. NO...was all I could think.

Before my fight-or-flight instincts could kick in, Hooch was waving to a bespectacled, toothpickish figure standing on a corner next to The Third Eye Aromatherapy Den. Hooch motioned for me to join them and my legs, operating entirely of their own volition, moved me towards them.

"Professor Snape!" Trelawney burst out in utter delight. "So wonderful to see you on this plane. I so often think of you as only walking in the world of shadows and dreams!" Then she laughed, as if she'd just said something even vaguely resembling humor, and offered an outstretched hand to me. I wasn't quite sure what she expected me to do with it. I nodded slightly and gave her a curt greeting, leaving her to chuckle nervously and pull her hand away. Hooch slapped her broad palms together and cheerfully told us to move out.

I was subjected to the torture that is window-shopping for Merlin only knows how long. Hooch and Trelawney made me tag along behind them like a puppy. They would peer into windows for prolonged periods of time, hum thoughtfully, and mutter their evaluations of the items on display to each other, then abruptly move a few feet to the next window. I was completely numb with boredom and was often jolted by Hooch barking, "Come, Severus! Don't dawdle!" when she noticed I was staring blankly at a lamppost and not keeping up.

Eventually, Hooch said, "Hold on. Just got to pop in here for a moment to pick something up."

As she entered the building, I looked up and saw that we were at "Gillybreath's Cloak and Hat Cleaners". Trelawney and I stood in uncomfortable silence as we waited. She ogled me, in a trance, with those giant owl eyes of hers. I felt strangely like a rodent waiting in terror for that final moment of doom when she'd swoop in for the kill. But Hooch reemerged only a minute later with several bundled parcels of her washing. Guess who was made to carry every damn bit of it.

I suppose I could have, at some point, done something like drop Hooch's laundry into a ditch, tell her plainly what she could do with it, and leave the pair of them to talk about the new, daring, bezoar-encrusted hat pins on their own. Unfortunately, Mother raised me to treat women with a certain kind of respect (deserved or not). Behaving any differently would have overwhelmed me with the programmed fear of a sudden, violent impact between a wooden rod and my skull. 

Just as my arms were about to give out, Hooch proclaimed, "All right, then. I'm famished! Let's go to The Three Broomsticks, shall we?" 

Of COURSE she wanted to go to The Three Broomsticks. They ALL want to go to The Three Broomsticks every bloody time they come here. Is it any surprise that I despise the place? 

The place was packed, unastoundingly, and I was knocked and jostled by Madam Rosmerta, the proprietress, whenever she had to squeeze her considerably wide hips past me. Hooch and Trelawney scooted their seats close together for a nice gossip session while I sat on the other side of the table, praying to be transported to an alternate dimension where discussions about men who have "cute bums" don't exist. The people sitting at the table next to us were engrossed in conversation, so I snagged their stained copy of The Daily Prophet and did my best to concentrate on it. My companions didn't seem to notice my absence from their intense debate on which male physical attributes are most important, and it only took about 40 minutes for that brainless cow to get our orders to us, so I suppose it could have been worse. 

LUNCH: cold beef sandwich and a stiff drink (McCreedy's Heavy Anvil Draught)

I couldn't help but be intrigued a bit by their conversation, actually. I thought that Hooch's predilection for shoving objects through hoops carried over into her private life, if you get my meaning. You know...I'd always assumed that she was "flying for the other team"...Oh, I give up. I'm horrible at innuendo.

Anyway, I was rather surprised to see Hooch tittering and carrying on about boys like one of those hormonally over-charged, sexually emergent females I have to wrangle every day. It was fairly bizarre. I began to wonder if perhaps I weren't coaxed out there to serve as a sort of alibi. Could she and Trelawney be secret lovers, I theorized, and was this display of girlish chatter all for my benefit so I could give witness to the "normal" nature of their relationship later? I couldn't help but smirk to myself from behind the paper and filed this thought away for future use under "Intriguing Suspicions".

Then I heard Hooch groan, "The problem is, there's no MEN here at Hogwart's." She must have seen me bristle involuntarily at that, because she gave me a friendly pat and said, "No, offense, Snape. But...well, there aren't any real MEN here, just uncomfortable-looking cadavers walking about in robes. You can't deny that I'm RIGHT, can you?" She smiled and winked at Trelawney, who only chuckled embarrassedly and hid her face in her cup of chamomile. 

This was obviously Hooch's oh-so-subtle way of trying to prod me into joining the conversation. "Well, I suppose I'll concede that," I said, wearily taking the bait while not looking up from my paper. "But only if you'll admit to the curious lack of adequate females on staff, especially in contrast to the large number of hairy-legged banshees."

Hooch cackled and slapped me so hard on the back that a filling shook loose and I nearly choked on it. She grinned and cried, "Snape, you insufferable old bastard!" which I think she meant as a term of endearment. Amazing how she can get away with loudly proclaiming me a bastard in a public place, but if I were to call her precisely what SHE is in the same setting, I'd be lynched and nailed up by my privates faster than one could say "Testiculus Impalus". 

But then something happened that immediately made me yearn for more of Hooch's grating brand of friendly banter. She suddenly stood up and said, "Right...another round? I'll toddle off to the bar and fetch them myself. I'll never wave Rosmerta down in this crowd." And then she disappeared into the throbbing mass of flesh all around us and we - Trelawney and I - were all alone. 

Immediately Trelawney began to fiddle with her teaspoon, rattling it inside her empty cup as her other hand kneaded her napkin. I peeked around my paper to observe this curious behavior, and when I looked up at her questioningly with raised eyebrows, I found her staring at me again, her fullest, most intense stare yet. It was obvious that she was about to tell me something...something unpleasant. Knowing that the inevitable had finally come, I sighed in resignation and put the paper aside.

"WHAT, Trelawney?" I said bluntly. Might as well get this done as quickly as possible, I thought. The edge in my voice was a bit too much for her, however, and she almost jumped out of her skin. 

"Uh, um...what?" she parroted back at me. She was wringing the napkin in both hands now.

"What is it that you so desperately need to tell me?" I growled impatiently. "You DO have something you're just DYING to communicate, don't you?"

"OH...why, yes, I do!" she said in awe. "Professor Snape, I had no idea that you could penetrate the veil as easily as that! I mean, I always SUSPECTED you might, but..." 

I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, rubbing my temple. My GOD, the woman has the brain of a radish. 

"Professor Trelawney," I interrupted, enunciating slowly. "What...is...it?"

"Ah. Well..." she muttered, and looked down at the napkin in her hands.

It was then that I started to become very nervous. Trelawney always talks and talks; she never gets so nervous that she can't babble on endlessly, but all afternoon she'd been unusually timid around me. In retrospect, I realize that I should have seen what was coming next much sooner, in fact, it was so obvious that I wonder if the lab chemicals haven't killed off a sizeable portion of my brain. 

Her hand shot out and clamped on top of mine. This time it was I who jumped.

"Professor Snape," she said, and there was a terrible, resolute look in her eyes. "I just wanted to tell you..."

No, God, please, I thought.

"...that I understand what kind of man you are..."

No, no, please, no.

"...You're TORTURED by old wounds, haunted by the shadows of your past..."

I'll stop being such an insufferable bastard, I promise.

"...You feel so ALONE in this world, so without peace or solace..."

I'll award Gryffindor 100 points. I'll stop degrading them in front of Slytherin house.

"...You wander, lost in the dark and murky depths of your own mind. But...but, you see, I'M here, and I want to help you...to guide you out of the forest, to be your shining light..." 

I'll give Harry Potter a plum cake for Christmas. Just PLEASE make this not be happening right now...

"...Because, Severus, I understand what it is to be lonely and in despair. To feel isolated by one's own intellect and to have vision into realms that others dare not view. I feel as if we're SOULMATES, Severus, and I...I think that I..."

"EXCUSE ME," I said as I leapt out of my chair. The horror and panic was impossible to control. "IS THAT THE TIME? AFRAID I HAVE TO GET BACK NOW...LATE FOR APPOINTMENT...MUST...GO."

I forced a path through the crowd, deaf to the angry shouts of my fellow patrons. I was terrified that Hooch would spot me and drag me back to that table, so I made all haste to get as far away from The Three Broomsticks as I could.

As Hooch had possession of the portkey, I was forced to buy (at an extortionary price, by the way) a splintery old clunker off of a young local in order to get home. 

4:00 P.M.

Potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin...the highlight of my day. Was v. v. v. flustered and upset by this afternoon's fiendishly executed ambush by Trelawney and her demonic cupid, Hooch. So not in a good mood at all, obviously. 

Neville Longbottom walked in, looking as if he'd given himself an ulcer from thinking all afternoon about what I was going to do with him, r.e. the toad incident earlier. He probably wouldn't have even come to class, except the worry of what I'd have done to him about THAT must have been much worse. I usually don't enter the room before everyone is seated, so the sight of me behind my desk was a nasty shock to him. I let all the other little Gryffies and Slytherins wander in and eventually find their seats, their chatter quieting to murmurs as they noticed I was already there. Then I stood, and started in without formality. 

"Today we will be concocting a potion to combat the cruelties of Mother Nature. Namely, the cruelty of ugliness that she has inflicted upon so many of you." 

I was barely finished with that sentence when already I heard Gryffindors eagerly shifting in their seats, just bursting to cleverly ask their neighbors why didn't I use it on myself then. 

"But don't excite yourselves," I said, before anyone even had a chance to lean over to their little chums. "The effects of Beautifying Brew are severely time-limited...up to no more than five minutes. Beauty IS only skin-deep, after all."

Seamus Finnegan was determined to be the first one to let loose his pent-up zinger. He put his mouth close to Dean Thomas' ear, his lips poised and ready, curled in a smirk. 

"Two points, Finnegan," I said, leaning down so my nose was only inches from his. 

"Wh-whoffor?" he blustered, having the gall to sound indignant.

"Intended impertinence," I replied coldly, my eyes informing him that I knew exactly what almost came out of his lips. Like Trelawney, he mistook mere observation for some kind of psychic ability, and shrunk down in his seat looking somewhat spooked. I turned back to the class. 

"Now, while it's useless as a cure for hideous, blemished, teenage flesh, Mr. Finnegan..." I paused here and the Slytherins laughed, "Beautifying Brew can be used as a non-violent diversion in a fight. Every creature that looks upon a person using the Brew will see the most gorgeous being that ever lived, no matter how disgusting they truly are...at least for a short time. Obviously this will allow to user to confuse and distract their opponent, and perhaps even gain psychological control over them. A very useful tool indeed, though rather dangerous. It wouldn't be a good idea to carry a vial of it around with you and swig it every five minutes, for instance, Mr. Longbottom," I said, approaching the boy as his face went ashen with terror, "as an overdose of the Brew will cause the body to expel an unpleasant odor. Uncontrollable vomiting and gastrointestinal problems are also common." 

I was eyeing Longbottom carefully, watching him watching me watching him. I briefly thought about the promises I'd made to the heavens at the end of lunch...and the total indifference I'd received in return. 

"Which wouldn't impress the girls, now would it, Longbottom?" I said mockingly. 

He looked around nervously, then mutely shook his head no. 

"Good, I'm glad we agree. So I won't catch you trying to charm anyone with it, will I? That would most likely end as successfully as your LAST attempt to exploit young women, I think." 

He grimaced painfully as I loomed over him. I could almost hear his stomach acid churning. 

"And I would be EXTREMELY upset to hear about anyone using this formula for lecherous and nefarious purposes," I said and gave him a pointed look. 

I usually put a rein on myself. I stop right at the point where they're just about to cry, and Neville Longbottom was well on his way there. But I was thinking about how Hooch had lured me out to Hogsmeade, made me run and carry for her, and then subjected me to the humiliation of having Trelawney pour her heart out to me. 

I glowered at the boy and said, "There's nothing more despicable than a PERVERT, is there, Longbottom?"

The Slytherins were nudging each other and laughing. They'd all no doubt heard of Longbottom's deviant episode under the bench from the group of girls he'd offended. Several females, and not all of them Slytherins, were narrowing their eyes at him with distaste. 

"N-no, sir," Longbottom said in barely a whisper, his eyes downcast and dripping tears onto his robe.

I wasn't sure why I was doing this. After all, technically the boy was totally blameless...except for the crime of being himself: clumsy, befuddled, spineless Neville Longbottom, the class whipping boy. But I was angry, with Hooch and with myself for not standing up to her. And angry with Longbottom for letting her see the toad in his hands. I needed to vent, and it's always far too convenient to use Longbottom for that purpose.

"Yes, perverts are the most pathetic lot in the world, aren't they?" I sneered at him. "Such diseased, worthless characters. Do you know what they do with convicted sex offenders in Azkaban, Longbottom?"

"Leave him alone."

That, of course, was the quiet, but defiant voice of Harry Potter. I'd been WAITING for this. 

"WHAT was that, Potter?" I said, snapping my eyes to him with a very dangerous look. After the kind of day I'd had, giving me cheek was the LAST thing Potter wanted to do.

"I...I said, you should leave him alone. Professor Snape, Neville hasn't done anything."

"Oh, hasn't he? Well, it just so happens, Mr. Potter, that only this afternoon I CAUGHT this budding, young molester in the act..."

Hermione Granger, who is always so eager to provide regurgitated information, shot her arm up into the air. Miss Granger may be the average educator's wet dream, but more often than not I'd like to take that frantically waving hand of hers and shove it down her throat.

"Sir! Sir!" she called out. "We talked to him, and Neville wasn't trying to, um, do anything, other than fetch his toad, Trevor, from underneath a bench. So, please..."

"When I want input from the president of the Harry Potter fan club, I'll let you know, Miss Granger. Otherwise, be quiet," I snapped at her. She lowered her arm and looked away sullenly as giggles erupted through the room. I shot a glance at Potter's other faithful crony, Ronald Weasley, daring him to utter even a single word. He stared back at me tensely, but remained quiet. 

"Five points off for both of you," I said to Potter and Granger. "And I'll thank you to let me administer discipline in my own classroom UNAIDED." I spun back to face Longbottom. 

"Right. A 'toad', was it? Tell me, Longbottom, is that the truth or just a fabrication to save face in front of your friends?"

Longbottom just sat there, like the lump he is, and sniveled into his lap. 

"WELL?" I growled impatiently, resting my hands on the table he was sitting at as I glared down at him. "What's at fault here, your toad or your raging hormones?" 

It was so simple. All Longbottom had to do was utter the words "my toad", and it would be easily resolved. If he did that, I would proclaim that since the toad was the offending pervert crawling under benches to peek up girls' dresses and not Longbottom, then the toad would be the one to receive punishment. I would confiscate the toad to serve detention for a week, during which I would occasionally threaten to chop it up and put it to good use. If Longbottom didn't do anything to further exacerbate my temper, I might even give it back to him eventually. He'd learn a damn good lesson about keeping track of that bloody toad, in any case. 

But could Neville Longbottom manage even that? Of course not. He just sat there, weeping miserably onto his toad, which he held protectively in his lap. He was so pathetic; it sickened me just to look at him. I sneered in disgust and leaned in close to him, acid dripping in my voice as I hissed, "Hel-lo, Longbottom! Are you hard of hearing? I asked you a question!" 

It was then that I noticed it: the unmistakable, acrid stench of urine. I glanced down and realized that not all of the moisture in Longbottom's lap was from tears. The pitiful little idiot was so frightened that he'd pissed himself. He lifted his eyes suddenly, terrified that I knew and was going to expose him.

I really had no idea how to react for a moment. I stared into his wide, red-rimmed eyes and scowled, full of vexation at finding myself in this uncomfortable position and angry that I'd been driven this far out of control. Finally I stood up and exhaled exasperatedly.

"You are by far the most useless creature I've ever had the displeasure to teach, Longbottom. You can't even answer a simple question. And look at yourself! You're so busy cowering and quivering, you've spilled dragon's bile on your uniform. If you don't wash it out within five minutes, you'll have a hole big enough for everyone in the room to have a peek at YOUR unmentionables." 

There was a sudden release of tension in the room as the Slytherins, and a few of the Gryffindors, laughed. I shut them up with a quick, severe look around the room. 

"How many times have I warned this class about the corrosive properties of a dragon's bodily fluids?" I addressed the room reprovingly, then returned to Longbottom. "Well? How many?"

Longbottom was utterly confused. There wasn't a single drop of dragon's bile on his robe, and he was trying to figure out if I knew that or not. 

"S-several times, sir," he finally murmured.

"Then you have absolutely no excuse for being such a careless imbecile, do you? I suggest you LEAVE, Longbottom, and quickly. If I look at you one more second, I will be forced to tear my own eyes out in utter frustration, and as amusing as it might be at first, I would tire of seeing you in a uniform riddled with holes like a Swiss cheese." 

Longbottom was stunned. His expression was completely incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that he was being saved from the doom he'd been so sure was his. This could be a trick, he was probably thinking. I made things clearer for him.

"Go on, get out. You are excused from this class. You will make up your work in detention today. Well, what are you gawping at, boy? Don't you think you've wasted enough of our valuable time? OUT!"

He scrambled to get his things together and looked at me in a way that nearly made me flinch. It was a kind of awe, as if he was wondering in amazement if, just perhaps, I was really nice person beneath my caustic façade. I reminded myself to free him from that illusion later in detention. He quickly dashed out of the room, holding his books in front of his soggy robe. 

I continued on with the dreary explanation of Beautifying Brew and gave instructions on how to prepare it, then I set the cretinous mediocrities about their work. I strolled through the room and watched carefully for any mental midgets who might blow up the lab and cause us all to die a horrible, grisly, yet strangely attractive death.

As I passed Potter I noted an even-stronger-than-usual seething hatred from him. He was morally outraged by my treatment of Longbottom, I suppose. As usual, the little twit had SEEN but not OBSERVED. I scolded him for being careless with his herbs (he was shaking with rage and spilling them all over) and took off another point from Gryffindor.

When I turned from him, I happened to catch Hermione Granger studying me for a half-second before she looked away. It was a somewhat troubled, disappointed look, as if she were trying to figure out the enigmatical workings of my mind. I think it's safe to say that the suspicion I've had for some time is correct; the girl has a crush on me. Undoubtedly, though, she'd die before letting her little pals, Potter and Weasley, know. Note to self: file this one away for future use under "Potentially Useful Information". 

Why is it that the only females who ever show any interest in me are introverted, awkward little girls like Granger or complete fruit baskets like Trelawney? If I had a knut for every moon-eyed female who wanted to "save" me...well, then I'd have quite a few knuts, let me tell you. Their insistent desire to rescue me from whatever it is they think I need so desperately to be rescued from is exasperating. Though I will say that, if I'd known that being an insufferable bastard was so alluring to women, I would have become a fashion photographer instead. 

The rest of class went fairly smoothly, except when I had Pansy Parkinson test her group's brew for me, and Gregory Goyle made a lustful lunge at her and would have tackled her to the ground if I hadn't grabbed him by the collar in time. I chided her quietly for the use of far too much rhinoceros horn and had that batch disposed of. 

6:00 - 8:00 P.M.

Neville Longbottom and I skipped our evening meal so that we could dedicate ourselves to the many tasks at hand for us...specifically, flask-washing, eel-debraining, and barrel-scrubbing for Longbottom, book-reading and biscuit-nibbling for me. As he worked, I occasionally made an amusing comment like, "Do try to CONTAIN your joy for your work, Longbottom" or "If you don't think you take the stench of eel innards anymore, Longbottom, just inhale and HOLD IT IN". After about the first ten minutes of detention, I knew that I didn't need to worry about Longbottom sharing his misconception with the other Gryffindors that I was a closeted warm-and-fuzzy type. 

As I reclined in my chair and rested my feet on my desk, I experienced the first sense of peace I'd had all day. For just this moment, all was right with the world. No one was harassing me, dragging me around, ogling me, annoying me, or trying to improve my life. The room was wonderfully quiet, except for the sound of Longbottom's teeth grating against one another as he secretly plotted for the day when he would take his revenge and make us all pay (which I know he does, because I did the same thing at his age). 

Reminded myself to renew the protective charm on the poisons cabinet tomorrow.


End file.
